


A Christmas Story

by arlenejp



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: M/M, if wishes could come true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 02:15:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17194589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arlenejp/pseuds/arlenejp
Summary: Does Sherlock always have to have the last word? Not this time!





	A Christmas Story

Three days before Christmas and all is quiet. Well, not so much. Sherlock is pacing the floor of the flat chanting, "bored, bored."  
I'm sitting in my comfy chair, tea on the little table beside me, fire lit, writing on my laptop.  
Trying to peek over to see the type on the screen, I shield it from him.  
"What are you writing? We haven't had a case in over a week."  
Smiling inwardly, "I'm writing a Christmas story."  
"Bah!"

Closing the laptop, I stand, stretch and announce, "I'm going to bed," placing the computer on my chair, taking the empty cup to the kitchen.  
"Goodnight Sherlock," and head upstairs.  
Once in my room, I know darn well that he's going to unlock my password and read my story.  
I'm a bit apprehensive but let the chips fall, I think.

* * *

Christmas eve is here and tomorrow will be a noisy day. We are supposed to have dinner at Sherlock's parents' house, and Mycroft will be around. I know they will be biting at one another, each trying to outdo the other.  
So yes, noisy it will be.

* * *

For now though, I am lying on the sofa reading the sports page of the newspaper. Sherlock is pacing the floor as usual.  
He stops in front of the sofa, kneels, his face close.  
I ignore him, but every fiber of my being is on alert.  
He bends, lands his lips on mine, well, not exactly lands, but, so lightly touches his lips to mine. I continue to read, my insides turning out.  
Again, he presses lips to my lips, but this time longer and with more force, more feeling.  
His head goes back up, "John Watson. I fulfilled your Christmas story. Aren't you going to respond?"  
With trembling hands, I close the newspaper, fold it in half and place it on my legs.  
Turning my head to look into those beautiful eyes, now slightly upset and unsure.

* * *

"Sherlock Holmes. There is more than one way to have a happy ending to that story, "reaching up to bring his lips back to mine.


End file.
